The chamber-maid was a little cockney from Clapham who had taken to herself the name of Céleste.
"None the worse for that, I dare say," said Ernie with unusual acrimony.
Céleste flirted on her way.
"Tra-la-la!—ta-ta-ta!" she taunted with a little mocking flutter of her fingers. "I suppose you're white too, Ernie Boots."
"No," grinned Ernie. "I'm grey."
"Baa-baa, black sheep!" mocked the naughty one. "I'd be one or the other. Grey's a silly sort of tint."
Then the Jew's sodden voice came wheezing down the corridor.
"Here, kid!—You'll do. You're not a bloody iceberg, are you?"
Céleste shook her carefully-coiffed head.
"I'm engaged, Soly. So sorry!—Go back to bed, there's a dear old thing!"